


Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness

by duckiesinaline



Series: What's In a Word [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gramander, M/M, Soulmates, and cry with me, have all my feels, just in case the previous tags didn't clue you in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 23:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12095508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckiesinaline/pseuds/duckiesinaline
Summary: He was a Graves, he would graduate near the top of his class, he would become an Auror, and he would make his mark alongside those of his forefathers in MACUSA history.It would be a good life to have, and he was happy with that.





	Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aethelar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aethelar/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Untitled](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/322917) by Aethelar. 



> For Aethelar who wrote this gut-wrenching thing which I read weeks ago and literally couldn’t get out of my head since then. I finally had to give myself some peace by getting words out for all my feels, and originally I had intended to try and just follow it with an exploration of just how do you mourn something you never had, but when faced with a blank page, suddenly this happened instead.
> 
> You definitely need to read it first (the Untitled link above) before reading this thing to get all the references, even if this can be a standalone. (Please do. It's worth every extra tear.)

Percival received his words promptly at the age of 16.

It was hardly a surprise. Few things in his life up till that point were, just as he figured few things later in his life will be either. He was a Graves, he would graduate near the top of his class, he would become an Auror, and he would make his mark alongside those of his forefathers in MACUSA history.

It would be a good life to have, and he was happy with that.

So, if he were to have a soulmate, it would of course be revealed at the perfectly median age that folklore would say most people would receive their words. In the evening, after the dinner hour and after the birthday cake and when everyone was drowsy with too much sugar and a too-warm bonfire, little pinpricks needled across his wrist like cat’s claws kneading into flesh.

Percival slapped at the skin and glanced down. When he stared too long, one of the others made a querying sound, too lazy to form an actual question, and he shrugged as he rolled to his feet. “Thought something bit me. I’m going inside before the mosquitoes try again.”

It was just yet another pre-scripted thing in his life. Meeting his soulmate would happen when it did, and in the meantime, he may as well carry on as usual.

Graves had little use for dreams. Why, when he was living the charmed life that was often the envy of others? He did indeed graduate within the top of his class. He did indeed become an Auror.

Life was good, and he was happy.

It was still good, when he was knee-deep in the muck of Europe; when he was tucked, cold and shivering, in the darkest corner he could find and too close to enemy wizards to risk even a heating charm. It was the warmth of thick fur while he clenched his teeth to keep them from giving him away with their chatter, the comforting scent of grass and clean-running water as he crawled beneath clouds of ash and smoke, the low rumble of contented beasts buffering the distant snarl of tanks.

It was the freedom of wide-open plains, of vast oceans of trees, of a sky that went on forever.

“Love at first sight, hm?”

Graves grumbled, pulled from the edge of sleep. “What’re you on ‘bout - “ he slurred irritably, thinking only of the miserably early hour they would have to deploy at tomorrow.

Theseus untangled a hand from Graves’ hair to pull up his left wrist, squinting at the sloppy script; like a journalist’s letters, hand unable to keep up with the thoughts. “Percy,” he chided, “where’s your romance? Their first words to you are going to be that they don’t want to let you go - “

Graves snarled, yanking the pillow from beneath them to stuff in Theseus’ laughing face.

But that was the crux of it. Graves had _felt_ the freedom in those words - freedom from life’s rules, from society’s constraints, from expectations. He couldn’t imagine any leash that his soulmate would voluntarily don.

Graves returned to America alone; a little quieter, a bit wiser, and sure now in his vision of how he would make his mark in MACUSA.

There had been plenty of gossip surrounding his meteoric rise to director and head of MACUSA’s security and law enforcement. He let them talk, as long as he secured his place amongst the decision-makers. His tour in Europe may not have garnered as much publicity as Scamander’s had, but he understood, now, that protecting others was not just about personally shielding each individual from each threat that came along. It was about being in a position to say yea or nay or what-the-hell-are-you-thinking when other people’s lives were on the line.

And if there was the rare moment in which he sat in his empty office, and he allowed his mind to quiet just long enough that words drifted up, unbidden, _I’m here, I’m here, if - when - you’re tired of roaming, I’m here,_ well that was just the fault of the half-finished whiskey, still dangling from the ends of his fingertips.

Life was good, and he was happy.

And even when he woke to cold and pain and a madman’s face he had never expected to see outside of international warrants, and that reflexive reach for the comfort of that other half of his soul was met with _silence_ -

“Ah-ah,” Grindelwald chided, tapping something bound around his wrist that made his hand feel numb and disconnected, “we wouldn’t want anyone coming prematurely to rescue you, do we? Timing is _everything_.”

\- Graves had the comfort of knowing he would survive this. There were still words waiting to be spoken to him.

And so he endured. He endured, and he fought, knowing that whatever the worst that Grindelwald did to him, in the end, Graves would escape the wizard’s schemes. There were so many people depending on him, people he had to warn, to protect, to save -

But then he felt it - a desperation that was not his, a fear that was not his, and he stared in dumb horror at the ugly cuff made rusty by his own blood because it might have blunted the connection, but soulmates was a magic older than recorded history. He _knew_ , he knew his soulmate was here, was nearby, _they were here while Grindelwald was walking around with his face and his name and his memories and his words on his wrist -_

It felt as if he had been sleepwalking his whole life and he had only just woken up. His soulmate was here, was looking for him, and they would find him but who knew what might happen in between now and then with a madman in between.

So when Grindelwald came next to visit, to ask him about Theseus’ little brother, who had made an unexpected appearance and carried an even more unexpected prize in his suitcase, Graves reminded himself, _it’s only pain, it’s only pain, the pain will pass -_

He almost succeeded. Nearly his greatest triumph, now his greatest failure. Grindelwald had been furious, disheveled and snarling, and Graves’ only consolation was that the end must be coming soon, because the madman had no more use for him now and the hollow gutter of his spent magic was matched only by the cold seeping into his shattered bones.

The exhaustion was not his alone. _It will be alright,_ he tried to tell that other half. _You will find me. It will be alright._

And as he started having to consciously remind himself to keep taking that next breath, that the wait was nearly over but there was still something worth waiting for ...

_\- the warmth of fur and the smell of grass and the sound of contentment and the heady feel of wide open spaces -_

“Hold on, hold on, don’t go yet please don’t go - !“

 _I’m here,_ he tried to say to the eyes of blue sky and the sun-warm, wind-tousled curls. _I’m here._

And he was happy.


End file.
